See You
by Chornyi
Summary: A short fic to make me feel better about things after the way the second season 'ended'. PG just to be safe, but no real PG material.


SEE YOU  
  
By Chornyi  
  
Not mine.. Not even Ian, unfortunately. You know whose they are.  
  
Okay, I was rewatching the episodes, and after seeing about 6 hours of them, I wrote this. It's set sometime after Ubique, but things have been set to rights in my little Witchblade world, all the loose ends that were left in that episode resolved in a way we can live with and things back more or less to the way they were in the earlier season two episodes.  
  
Make of it what you will, I don't know about you, but I needed this.   
  
....................................................................................  
  
'You wanted to see me.'   
  
'Yeah... I..'  
  
She can't think of anything to say, suddenly. He's said those words to her before, the same inflection, the same expression on his face as he glances up at her, a quick, almost shy look and then down again.  
  
This time she detects a note she missed before.  
  
'You wanted to see me.'  
  
Is it hope?  
  
It leaves her with nothing to say. Not the 'Yes,' that is her usual answer, and then the quick move on to the subject she wants to take up with him, not the truth, which is 'I don't know.'  
  
'You wanted to see me.'  
  
Did she?  
  
Did she really want to see him?  
  
The answer is scary, because she thinks it's yes.   
  
Did she really need to see him tonight? Or was it just an excuse.. To see him?  
  
He's dressed differently from the last time she saw him, not the old, over-coat wrapped Ian nor the later Ian who wore suits in pale shades as if trying to lighten his image.  
  
This Ian wears blue, so dark it's nearly black, but that one saving shade above.   
  
His hair is bound back in the severe knot the earlier Ian favored, but long strands have escaped the binding and hang loose around his face, framing it in gold-streaked red-black.  
  
The beard is the same of course, that never changes.He stares at her with concern in his eyes, those solemn golden-brown eyes.  
  
'Sara? Are you.. Alright?'  
  
'Yes, Ian, I'm fine.'  
  
He looks down at her sharp tone as if chastized. She notices he's not wearing gloves today, although the heavy ring is still on his finger. When he sees her looking at his hands he fists them, as if ashamed of their nakedness.  
  
'Ian, I... I need to talk to you.' She makes her voice firm, although she is so afraid. It wants to tremble but she won't let it. She feels like she is on a precipice, about to fall.  
  
As if the wrong words will shatter something, although she doesn't know what.  
  
She is afraid, and that is wrong. The only thing to fear here is herself, and that's what scares her.  
  
'Ian, I... I've been thinking about things, and I.. I realize I haven't been fair to you. I want to apologize to you. I want to say I am sorry. I have a hard time dealing with..' She swallows, and her brows draw down with the intensity of what she is trying to say.  
  
He holds up his hand, stopping her. 'You don't have to apologize to me, Sara.' he says in that soft voice. He almost always speaks softly.  
  
'Yes. Yes, I do.' she answers him. 'And I'm going to. I have a hard time dealing with certain things. And I've taken that out on you. I understand now, I understand that you were only trying to help me. You've always been trying to help me, haven't you?'  
  
He looks down and doesn't answer, but she knows the answer.  
  
'I've been hard on you, Ian. And that wasn't fair. I've.. hurt you.'  
  
He looks up at that, eyes wide and startled. 'You could never hurt me.' he says after a second.  
  
'Yes. Yes, I could. And I have. I do.'  
  
She reaches out slowly and takes his wrist. He doesn't move at all, but the muscle under her hand tenses and feels like iron. He looks up at her, a quick, frightened look. She hears his gasp. Yet she doesn't let go.  
  
'I want to say I'm sorry for that. For the times I've hurt you with my words. My actions. My rejection.'   
  
She meets his eyes, hers filled with the force of her words, her pain. Her mouth contorts, and she closes her eyes suddenly, squeezing them shut, denying the tears. But they slip out anyway.  
  
'I'm sorry.' she whispers.  
  
'Sara..' She feels gentle fingers touch her face, brushing away the tear that tracks down her cheek.  
  
'Don't cry.'  
  
When she opens her eyes, his face is close. He stares at her, meeting her eyes at last. His gaze is intense. He shakes his head.   
  
'You hurt me, Sara, but you HEALED me.'  
  
'You mean with the crossbow? Healed your wound?' she swallows the lump of tears in her throat, and wipes her eyes harshly with her wrist, dashing away the evidence of her weakness.  
  
'No...' he's so close she can feel his breath, but she has no desire at all to pull away. She doesn't care what that means.   
  
'No, I don't mean that.' he answers her question. 'I mean, in here.' He touches his chest. 'You healed me, Sara. Now.'   
  
'Now? I don't understand.'  
  
'Yes, you do.' He leans into her until his forehead touches hers. 'You do.'  
  
'Ian.. I'm scared.' It's hard to admit that. The old Sara wouldn't have, but the new Sara, the one who has been through fire, can.  
  
'I know.' He lifts his hands slowly and places them on her shoulders. 'I'm scared, too.'  
  
'What IS this?' she asks him. Her voice shakes.  
  
'What do you think it is? What do you feel?'  
  
'I.. I don't know. I'm afraid, but I.. I feel like this is a dream, and if it is, I don't want to wake up, and that SCARES me, Ian. That scares me.'  
  
'What if it is a dream?'  
  
'Then I'm sorry.'  
  
'And if it's not a dream?'  
  
'Then I'm not.'  
  
'It's not a dream.'  
  
He pulls her close, and she lets him. 'Good.' she whispers.  
  
He doesn't do anything, just holds her, his face in her hair. She feels his body tremble.  
  
It's enough. 


End file.
